


Extrasensory Perception

by KathyIsWeird



Category: American Horror Story
Genre: F/F, foxxay - Freeform, goodeday
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2019-08-11 02:16:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16466789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KathyIsWeird/pseuds/KathyIsWeird
Summary: A Foxxay-centric Coven rewrite. Not quite canon.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the prologue. Feel free to leave me any comments or feedback.

_ An unusually chilled breeze picked up the leaves and threw them every which way. The inky nighttime sky spilled out onto the shadows around her. The trees bent and contorted, causing strange shadows to dance in the beams of the streetlights. In the midst of the dancing foliage, a hooded figure leaned against a pale marble column. Errant curls blew around her, similar to a sunflower, basking in the breeze. Layers upon layers of fabric rustled around her legs, whipping and cracking in the wind. The errant jangle of jewelry clinked and sang against her body when she shifted her weight onto her other boot.  _

 

_ Absent-minded fingers danced along the dips and hills of the structure holding her up. She scratched a dirty fingernail against the podium lazily, drawing symbols and figures unbeknownst to any civilian. She whispered a quiet song; the notes and melody taken by the wind into the darkness. She stayed that way for a long while, trying her best to stay focused on the pull she felt. Finally, the last light in the window turned off and the she sighed. Tonight was not the night. But, she dutifully came when called - as any of her kind should. A cry for help, especially from a place so magical, should not be ignored. She would try again tomorrow.   _

 

_ Perhaps she would try during the day. It was dangerous - too dangerous usually. However, the cries for help were getting more intense as the days went on. On her end, the desire to be with others like her was overwhelming at times. The yearn to celebrate the fruits of life with someone - anyone, was a visceral pull deep in her soul. Loneliness was a blizzard and she did not want to fall victim to an avalanche.  _

 

_ Tomorrow (Today? It was pretty late) was a new day, bringing new opportunities and chances for everyone. She turned away from the home and started the journey home. She hugged her layers tighter to her. Next time she’d remember to grab her jacket. The chill of the fall was starting to bleed into the nights, and she did not want to be caught off guard.  _


	2. Chapter 2

No more than ten hours after her horrific incident, Doctors had warned Cordelia that her senses would acclimate to her blindness - that her brain would rewire itself into something even more powerful. Whether they meant it as some sort of comfort during her trying times, was irrelevant. No words of comfort or half-assed medical diagnoses could have prepared her for was an all-out sensory assault every time someone's skin touched hers. Well, that, and a heightened sense of taste. But, all that truly did was enhance her love for red wine and fuel her disappointment with her own cooking. For the most part her injury had become the catalyst for something much more important than the five human senses. Seeing visions every time she made any contact with anyone was daunting.

It was a double-edged sword, her power. In the last few weeks she had proven more useful than she'd previously been during the coven's times of need. However, life is series of balances, so while she gained a second sight, she in turn had lost the bond between her and the rest of the Academy. Even before her disfigurement the relationship between her and the coven was fragile. The only thing she had in common with any of the girls was magic. Although magic was the most powerful feminine force on planet Earth, it alone could not forge the strong bonds imperative within a coven. Just look at Fiona; the strongest of witches - a supreme - with not a single friend in the world. Cordelia only spoke to her because of some childhood need for acceptance. Fiona was quite possibly the worst thing to happen to a lot of people, yet for some reason people still respected her in a way that Cordelia had never experienced.

As a strange youth, the only interaction she received was people putting their hands on her to hurt her. Even well into her teens and young adulthood, the only contact she had was malicious and sometimes downright abusive. Fiona watched from the sidelines, cheering her abusers on each time. The little voice in Cordelia's mind that consistently played a loop of self-deprecating insults still held the shrill voice of the terrible matriarch.

It was her downright toxic relationship with her mother than made her newfound second sight more of a curse than a blessing. She was already denied any sort of maternal affection throughout her entire was a fifteen year gap in their interaction where Cordelia had been ushered to the Academy, and when Fiona had made some feeble attempt to reconnect after her accident.

When she'd first arrived at Miss Robichaux's, she'd been so broken that even the mere thought of being in a group of girls her own age was overwhelming. Her first few months were spent in what was used to be storage room. She'd fashioned it into some Harry Potter- esque broom closet bedroom. Only two people and a bed could fit in the small room. Frequently she locked herself and occasionally the Academy's resident black feline, Sybil, in the small room, pouring over spellbooks and ancient texts.

The instructors had been flexible with her - probably because they were familiar with Fiona and - along with everyone else who knew her - wondered why she'd had a child when she was truly so foul. It had taken nearly a year of polite and gentle prodding by Myrtle to even get her to join the other girls in the common room for the daily gathering. She couldn't even gather the courage to speak to the other girls until well into her teens. However even if she was a voluntary mute, they sure had no problem tormenting her at every turn. Many times, she'd been the victim of teasing that turned into an outright brawl. Of course she could magically protect herself. However, the one time she'd tried to defend herself with magic, her opponent, a fellow student, had been skinned alive in a quite traumatic way. It had taken a lot of work from the elders and the council to help the poor girl regenerate her flesh over a month's time. Of course Cordelia felt terrible about it - but she truly hadn't meant to retaliate in such a devastating way. Sure, the girl had pushed her down the stairs and had sprained Cordelia's wrist. But, that didn't mean she needed to be flayed.

After a mostly-successful skin regeneration, the girl ended up leaving the coven and no one heard from her again.

So, from that instance on, Cordelia adamantly refused to use magic for anything other than defense. She would not injure anything or anyone. No argument could sway her.

She was different than the rest of girls at Miss Robichaux's, a jack-of-all-trades. She could do anything she put her mind to, but she was not born with a specific gift. The other girls picked their main powers, and graduated the Academy while Cordelia stayed there - wondering if she was doomed to mediocrity. Sure she could levitate for a while, and convince the cat that plastic wrappers were not toys. But, she never truly found her power. What she would be known for.

But, as they all grew, those witches had come and gone to various corners of the world. Having a supreme like Fiona would do that to anyone. They'd gone from a coven in the double digits, to just Cordelia by the time she'd turned twenty. Slowly, the witches that had left had turned up dead or missing, thanks to the evils of this world. The Academy had failed to protect them, and furthermore Fiona had failed them all. Even if she truly hated her classmates, she would never had wished for their deaths. Even if they were still enemies, they were still witches and nothing could ever trump that bond.

Cordelia knew from early on that she wouldn't be leaving the academy once she'd graduated. Years of mistreatment and solitary confinement had taken its toll on her. Groups of people made her anxious, and so did the spaces they inhabited. Safety was indoors because the world outside was a shitstorm of fury and madness that magic could not cure. Besides, why would witches clean up the mess that men had made over hundreds of years? This world had always been dangerous for witches, but now in modern times it was extra taxing trying to be a woman in society.

It took a lot to make her feel safe and she wouldn't give that up for anything. So, at the ripe age of twenty-one, she'd made an offer to her Auntie Myrtle that she could refuse: She'd take over the coven, the Academy, and the strained relationship with Fiona. Myrtle, bless her heart, had at least attempted to look like she mulled it over. But, the agreement came and went and soon Cordelia had the entire place to herself. So, while most twenty-one year olds were binge drinking and making questionable decisions, she was getting ready to take responsibility for one of the most powerful covens around.


	3. Chapter 3

 

She’d waited nearly a year until she’d gotten her first charge. 

 

Nan was the first witch to attend Miss Robichaux’s under her guard. Cordelia had fluffed every pillow in the house (twice), she’d spritzed from the attic to the greenhouse with a lavender oil. The bookshelves had not a speck of dust. So, when the door rang and the social worker had appeared with a small teen in tow, Cordelia had almost burst at the seams with excitement. 

 

The girl was doe-eyed and rosy cheeked, similar to the Grecian art that hung in the common room. She seemed to wear a permanent smirk, like she knew something no one else did. Introductions were short and to the point. She did make it quite clear that she did not answer to her given name, Nanette. Although, if her name was sung sweetly, she would blush and flutter her eyelashes in the most adorable way. 

 

Cordelia didn’t quite believe it was the truth, but according to Myrtle’s email, the teenager had stood during her high school commencement speech and named every single teacher and student that had been an abuser in the last year instead of the generic bullshit she’d turned into the school. Then, once she’d been heckled off the stage by the same men, all of the rafters had fallen and crushed a great majority of the guilty and accused. Some would call it the “Great High School Crisis of the Year” and even more would call it justice.

 

Apparently this had caused an uproar that the small town in New England could not handle. In fear of her being in danger, she had been turned over to the state by her grandmother at age 17. Myrtle, even though she was on a permanent vacation from the academy, still kept an eye out for potential witches. She’d “convinced” the state that Nan should go to their Academy and reside there until adulthood or graduation. 

 

Although, after knowing Nan for a few months, Cordelia eventually realized that while being clairvoyant, the girl really did just have a huge heart for anyone who’d been victimized in their lives. Even after she turned 18 and technically aged out of the home, she’d stuck around and helped Cordelia by being her first test pupil. She gave great feedback about what lessons were best as hands-on and which ones were great for takeaway work. She also had become very attached to Sybil, who was still as spry as she was fifteen years ago. Many times Nan could be found chatting to the cat while petting her dark fur. 

 

It was just the pair of them for quite a while. During that time, Cordelia had started to relax gently into her role as Headmistress, especially since Nan really didn’t challenge her authority much. Was she mischievous? Oh, definitely. Especially when Cordelia was upset but didn’t want to talk about it. It was impossible to hide anything from Nan. But, eventually they’d spoken about Fiona being terrible along with Nan’s mediocre childhood more than once so Cordelia surmised that the peace and quiet was good for both of them. They had bonded over their lackluster parents, vowing to end the cycle of abuse done to them. 

 

One night, while Cordelia was showing Nan how to make her own sage stick, the girl had looked up and turned towards the door in a panic. She’d looked back at Cordelia and said that they were getting a new visitor. 

 

No more than a minute later, the sound of keys in the front door caught Cordelia’s ear. Myrtle, along with a dark skinned girl came barreling through the door. The sour scent of grease radiated from the girl, and based off of her uniform, Cordelia surmised that Myrtle had taken this girl straight from her work. Her aunt had insisted that they hide the young witch for a period of time. They’d taken her in without any hesitation. 

 

So, nearly a year after Nan had joined the coven, they’d added Queenie. 

 

Queenie was, above all things, the funniest person Cordelia had ever met. She made jokes about everyone and everything - no one was spared. However, as hilarious as her humor was - Queenie never punched downwards. Everyone coped with their life in different ways, and for the girl who’d spent her formative years being bullied by others for her weight and forced out of school at a tender 15 years ago, laughing about life was the key. She’d occasionally mentioned the racial tension of New Orleans, but Cordelia didn’t quite feel qualified to do anything other than listen. Queenie was defensive and pretty fearful at first, but she and Nan had bonded pretty quickly.

 

Nan said it was because Queenie said exactly what was on her mind and that was rare. Queenie said it was because Nan was the first person to see her power as just that, power. Being a human voodoo doll was not a curse. Queenie had used it to free herself from what she considered to be the worst part of her life, so Cordelia immediately classified it as powerful and created a curriculum best suit her. 

 

Also, even after leaving school at fifteen, Queenie was immensely helpful when it came to mathematics. She almost immediately had taken it upon herself to be the unofficial stock counter for all their ingredients for both culinary and magical purposes. Sometimes Cordelia would get a sly note telling her the kitchen would run out of eggs in three days, sometime it was telling her that they were short on candles. Either way, Queenie was their second charge and the coven was better because of her. 

 

Madison was the next addition to the coven, even if almost everyone Miss Robichaux’s had regretted her arrival at one point in time. She’d actually been pushed onto the coven by one of Myrtle’s old friends from back in her modeling days. Apparently this girl had a string of casting directors found dead after her auditions. But, it was the death of an executive producer that had truly gotten her unwanted attention. Of course no one cared until it came down to their cash flow.  

 

So, six months later, the Hollywood burnout had arrived, track marks and all, on the doorstep of the academy. Quite literally. Cordelia had opened the door to grab the paper and seen the lump of blonde hair and cigarette ash on the stairs. Not much longer later she received a phone call from her dear Auntie, begging her to take in the young starlet. Apparently Myrtle had been heavily suggested to make the girl disappear, or all of her less-than-clothed photos from 1969 would resurface. Who knew Myrtle had starred in a string of occult themed smut films? 

 

It was the four of them for another year until sweet Zoe was found. Cordelia found her heart hurting for the young girl, who was taking the news of her defective love life, seemingly in stride. She truly felt terrible for the hazing she’d endured - it was something Madison had planned right under her nose. It took more than a month for the girl to even be alone in the Academy without jumping a every sound. 

 

The quiet girl seemingly made their little coven feel complete. Nan, who’d been at the academy the longest, had tried to be a cheerful welcome wagon - but the spark in Zoe’s eyes never seemed to truly be there. Cordelia assumed that it was due to the prospect of a rather dull future. She was cursed to never be intimate with anyone, or rather they all assumed it was anyone. No one wanted to ask Zoe if she’d ever tried having sex with a woman, it seemed a little too crass for someone they’d only met. Even Madison had kept quiet.

 

It had been that small group since. Finally, Cordelia had found her people. Over the years, they’d become sort of a makeshift family - considering none of them really had anyone to go back to. Cordelia had evolved as a teacher, and as a woman. She’d met a man at the Piggly Wiggly while looking to buy some more commercial spices. They’d chatted a few times and exchanged numbers. Very quickly, the started to date. Although, Hank seemed to invite her over way more than she had hosted him. It became very apparent, when she’d been gone all night and received a less-than-supportive greeting when she ended her walk of shame into the Academy. After that, the girls did not welcome Hank into their space. No, not at all. 

 

Nan and Queenie had cornered her in the greenhouse one night after their divination lesson and pretty much laid out the hard facts that Hank was not who he said he was. Nan had heard what he was thinking and even if Nan became incoherent before she could properly explain what she heard, Cordelia figured it was due to jealousy. She immediately became defensive and married him out of spite the very next day. Only after they signed the papers had she decided to confront him about the information she’d been told. Of course, being a man, Hank had lashed out at her and screamed about her “kind”  being the bane of his existence and more malarkey about witches. She’d been duped. 

 

There was some fallout after that - including an immediate annulment that ended with Cordelia blinded quite literally, and the coven desperately trying to come together for their headmistress. She came back to them after a week in the hospital, eyes still bandaged and skin still raw. While she’d missed her girls terribly, the vibe among them had never recovered. She’d acted selfishly and not heeded their warnings. The unquenchable thirst for normalcy had won out over her rational thinking. They had been a complete coven for more than a year, and she’d tossed it out for the first man who paid attention to her. Maybe she was more like Fiona than she originally thought. 

 

Post-accident, no one approached her. It took a few days for her to be able to talk about the accident and even longer to talk about her new power. But, once she did, everyone seemed to avoid her like the plague. Many times she’d bumped into someone and seen something she shouldn’t have. She wasn’t a nosy woman - quite the opposite actually. Minding her own business was one of Cordelia’s favorite past time. Now? Well, now her unintentional intrusiveness had gotten so bad that even she refused to touch her own face. The raised and shriveled skin of her scars made her nauseous; just the reminder of her disfigurement sent her into a self-deprecating spiral. Who wanted to live their worst moment over and over again? It was her own personal hell wherever she went. 

 

Then again, perhaps she would crumble under the desperation for contact and run her trembling hands over the jagged edges of her face once more. Anything to help with the black hole of loneliness that was slowly taking over her heart. She needed human contact. It had gotten so bad, that even petting Sybil was a reprieve. Just something, or someone who wanted to touch her. It was unfair that she’d been given the gift of the coven, and lost it so quickly. Alas, she was at fault for losing her bearings over a man. Hey, at least Zoe kind of understood her pain. 

 

It wasn’t like she ran an overly-affectionate Academy to begin with. Most of them were still acquaintances, even if some had known each other longer than the others. Yes, they’d become a makeshift family. But the distrust was still there. These girls had been through the ringer, that was true. But, where was their empathy. Cordelia had taken each on in, under the most peculiar circumstances (even when it came to cover up for murder) and yet, none of them could even be bothered to say a measly “Good Morning”?

 

Of course they wouldn’t; she was the headmistress. There was no room for feelings, especially self-pity. Never mind that her “husband” had thrown acid in her face. No one thought as to how that feeling of betrayal ripped through her chest, causing a crevice that no alcohol or sobbing could fix.  Never mind that Cordelia lost much more than her sight that day. Even if Hank’s crime eventually lead to his own murder (which no one had asked about, thankfully), it didn't matter to anyone. No one asked her if she was okay. No one asked her anything, truly. They didn’t speak. 

 

So, as time went on, the divide between her and humanity grew exponentially. The girls had taken to simply wearing dish gloves when they were forced to interact. Madison had even gone so far as to buy designer mittens just to make her opinion on the matter perfectly clear. It truly hurt. For someone who considered herself to be warm and accepting, the cold, impersonal  attitude towards her was disheartening. She’s raised these girls to be powerful women and yes she’d hurt them. But was the silent treatment truly necessary? 

 

Cordelia didn’t even ask for much in the way of communication. It was well known her charges had their own lives, and that was important to her. Once she’d taken over the Academy as Headmistress, she vowed let any and all pupils live their youth as long as they could before dedicating their lives solely to magic. In fact, she’d adapted her curriculum to be more of a self-taught course. That way the girls didn’t have to interact with her but in the most basic form. It worked fairly well, especially when the girls gathered in a group to learn. She held a sense of pride at their achievements, even if she couldn’t really express it. 

 

Even as she sat in the hospital room after her attack, she could feel her attachment to the world slipping. What good was she, if she wasn’t a fully-functioning supreme?

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm moving soon so updates will trickle off for a little bit! Thanks for the wonderful responses so far!

 

Fiona had left them again. After a meager twelve days with the coven that included calling the council and causing many problems. She’d flown in to “keep an eye” on the Academy during Cordelia’s “absence”. She did not call, she did not visit, and she certainly did not care. Fiona had flown back to stay with the girls and had left no more than fifteen minutes after her daughter was lead through the door of Miss Robichaux’s. 

 

But, as most authoritative dictators do, her impact still stayed with them. The council had left after finding no reason for being summoned in the first place. Well, Myrtle had stayed behind. Myrtle had originally stated that she would stay to look after the Academy’s best wishes but after a few weeks it had become quite clear the she really just missed Cordelia and the haphazard mother-daughter bond they had crafted over the years. The older witch had calmed slightly since the supreme’s departure but it was obvious that no one expected Fiona to simply  _ stay gone.  _ The entire school had been walking on eggshells, and it seemed that no one was willing to relax just in case their entire world decided to come crashing down again. No one had told Cordelia what had actually happened while she was gone, but she could only assume it was terrible. 

 

No one spoke in anything other than hushed whispers. Even Nan had stopped being a human megaphone for people’s inner thoughts. Cordelia surmised that it was because everyone’s internal monologue was just too depressing. Queenie was staying out later and later, while Zoe tried to bridge the gap between the students and faculty as best as anyone would let her. Madison and Zoe had disappeared one night, only to return early the next morning with Kyle in tow. 

 

Kyle and Zoe had been the only two that seemed to take care of themselves. Kyle didn’t do much other than grunt and help tidy. Cordelia welcomed Kyle into their coven, even if she was a little perplexed about why Zoe had taken a liking to him. He wasn’t rude or anything. He just was..not much of anything actually. 

 

The meek witch, bless her heart, had been trying to help Cordelia come to terms with her disability. So, she let Kyle sleep in Zoe’s room as form of thanks. She really didn’t have to worry about anything, considering Zoe’s..affliction. Cordelia was thankful for Zoe’s ideas and actions. Deep in her heart, Cordelia hoped that as a coven they would discover something to aid in her blindness. However, in the present day, she could not afford that luxury. Not when she was the Headmistress and was expected to place her personal health on the back burner. 

 

At least had she’d had the idea to install a very thin grip to the main stairs after a particularly nasty fall she had incurred during the night. Even after being practically raised in the house, she still consistently misjudged where things were.  Fiona had made some offhand comment about how poor judgement must just be a consistent flaw in her character. Cordelia had spent the next week icing a sprained ankle and nursing a shattered ego. 

 

Since her disfigurement, Cordelia had done nothing but plow through the Academy’s stash of booze and eat more vanilla wafers than anyone should. Blindness, in this case was a blessing. Cordelia was sure that with her drunken stumbling and slurred words, she looked more like Fiona than ever before. How someone could loom so heavy over her life while barely being around for it was a cruel twist of fate. She hadn’t left her room for more than the daily gathering in weeks. Instead, she left that for Myrtle - who was being far kinder than Cordelia deserved.

 

The only place she’d found any solace was the greenhouse. Fiona had mocked her affinity for plants from an early age but as Cordelia aged and learned about the difficulty of interpersonal relationships, she came to realize that her mother was simply envious that there was a shred of humanity in her daughter. While she wasn’t the most gifted witch like her mother, Cordelia was someone who connected with other things - living or not. If there was someone in front of her, she would always find a way to reach a sort of synchrony with it. Her magic lay within the heart - something Fiona never understood. Or, that’s just what Myrtle had told her as she grew. 

 

The Herbarium, for example, had more than just flowers in it. But, during time of deep sadness for the witch, the flowers would wilt and their colors would mute. On the other hand, when she was euphoric or just downright happy, they grew very quickly and were brighter than anything she’d ever seen. It was like the greenhouse had become nature’s version of a mood ring. 

 

But, now that she had not seen her enchanting garden in ages, she was forgetting what her plants looked like. She could still feel them, as strange as it sounded. The more desperate for human connection she became, the more she relied on the textures of leaves and stalks to keep her grounded. It was a punch to the gut that she’d never truly taken the time to appreciate the variegation of the floral life in the greenhouse, but at least they’d never turned their petals from her to avoid intimacy. Each one of them was special to her, and Cordelia had found herself spending more and more time in there. 

 

So, as the days went on, so did she. Eventually she collected herself enough to put down the alcohol and start teaching her charges again. Actually teaching, not the do-it-yourself method she’d tried before. They all had their off days, but they also slowly learned how to be comfortable around each other. As a means of “meeting halfway”, Cordelia had taken to wearing long-sleeved blouses, even in the humid summer. The faint sheet of sweat against the loose fabric and the abnormally high dry-cleaning bill had been a fair trade for the prospect of human interaction even in its most basic form. One time after telekinetically moving a book from one shelf to the another successfully, Nan had given her a simple embrace. Cordelia nearly cried out in joy at the touch and didn’t even pay attention to the movie in her head about one of the girl’s childhood memories.

 

They had finally reached a semblance of normalcy. Even Kyle had started getting less argumentative and had even started to help her around the greenhouse. Cordelia assumed it was because people were overwhelming while plants were calming. They did not yell, they did not steal. They only grew for you and gave their lives in aiding medical and magical things alike. He wasn’t the best with handling them, as they still needed to have a discussion about being gentle. But, he was great at moving bags of soil and making sure Madison didn’t sneak more pot plants into the corner. 

Summer was coming to a close, and after a long deliberation, Cordelia had decided to give the girls the rest some time off. They’d resume their studies in a few weeks. After the trying year they’d all had, it was a welcome reprieve for them all. Even for Cordelia, who had been trying to get a hold of every audiobook and podcast she could get her hands on. 

Zoe had started to show a strong affinity for telekinesis, so Myrtle had taken the doe-faced witch to a practice space in the fields of Scotland for the weekend. Madison had skirted off to Vancouver to shoot a pilot. Queenie had taken a side-job at the local YMCA to tutor children in all sorts of math, and Nan had taken a week off to go visit a end-of-summer camp. Kyle had made it abundantly clear after hearing of Zoe’s departure that he wanted nothing to do with anyone and had trudged off with a promise to return whenever Zoe came back. When asked where he was going, he simply looked to his hands and muttered something about “Goin’ home”. 

It was a bustle of suitcases and quite a few teary goodbyes. This break was the first time that the girls had truly been away from each other in years. Cordelia had liked to think of it as a summer break of sorts. She would finally get a chance to catch up on all the responsibilities she had shirked during her period of feeling sorry for herself. Perhaps, she’d even break out the nice bottle of 7 Moons she’d been keeping in the hidden drawer she’d enchanted in the greenhouse. A night of wine, books on the occult, and warm bath sounded absolutely divine. 

She ushered her girl out the door, one by one, and was surprised when each one gave her a hug on the way out. Even if she was still wearing long sleeves, the contact was still welcomed. She shut the door and made her way to the common room.

Perhaps, she’d take a nap. 


	5. Chapter 5

  
  


After a few days of peace and quiet, Cordelia realized that the loneliness that had plagued her initially during her blindness was only amplified in the quiet halls of her empty home. Gone were the pitter-patter of rubber soled boots on the wooden floor. There were no traces of terrible music floating from the hallway. Also, the pungent smell of Febreeze and pot that usually wafted out under Madison’s door had diminished to a slightly earthy smell. Even Sybil was being quiet. 

 

She hated to admit it - she was bored. 

 

All of the bills were paid, the files re-organized, the laundry finished, the paperwork to acquire the property next to them was in line too. She had already sat on every surface in the common room and fluffed every pillow in the house. Cordelia had started and stopped three different television shows.She’d even managed to visit the greenhouse and say hello to her plants. After a little deliberation and weighing the pros and cons, the blind witch decided to go on a stroll around the block. It was a large step in independence and she truly missed being outside. Besides, it was four p.m. on a Tuesday, no one would be out.  

 

Nature was something she had truly taken advantage of. When she was able, she still preferred the comfort of her own home. Nowadays, though, her home was stifling her - choking her with the effects of a mentally unwell man. It had been months and yet Hank still haunted her. Not literally, no - they had taken care of that issue. This was more of an ubiquitous reminder of one of her biggest failures. In retrospect, she did not love him. Rather, she loved the idea of having him. Love was something that everyone talked about. There was this  _ push _ from society to pair off early in life. She did not like it, honestly. Marriage was so out of character for her, yet she’d thrown all her morals to the wind at her first opportunity. It was one of the reasons she did not fault any of her girls for turning their backs on her. 

 

Truly, she just wanted peace. Mentally, physically, and spiritually. It’s all she craved. Even just a body to hold her willingly. She needed to feel little again. To be enveloped in something larger than herself was a comfort she knew for only a short time. Even as a youth, she was starved of attention and a feeling of safety. Perhaps, it was why she loved too hard. She did everything just a little _ too _ much and a little  _ too _ hard. Fiona could likely attest to that. 

 

Which is why she needed to be outside. She willed memories of the trees blowing in the wind and sobbed when the memories she conjured were faded - incomplete. Autumn, oh god. She would never again see the leaves change and blow away. Snow? Never again. Flowers? Oh, how she missed seeing her flowers. Their unique beauty was unattainable by any human. There was nothing that could compare to the polychromatic sensory overload that was a bed of nature’s greatest gift.

 

She inhaled deeply, exhaled with purpose, and stood with a rising determination. She grabbed her flat-soled boots and her cane, making sure to tuck her keys and phone into a small pocket in her skirt. For a moment, she considered bringing headphones, but she didn’t want the distraction. Maybe when she was more experienced..

 

After a couple of quick pats to ensure that all of her things were in order, Cordelia set off towards the greenhouse to use the back exit. Once she made it to the heavy door (without tripping over anything), she heaved it open and sniffed in disgust. It smelled like rot - like everything was suffocating. Perhaps it was a goddamned metaphor - her flowers were telling her that she was rotting. 

 

So she braced herself and with shaking arms heaved one of the windows open slightly. When a humid breeze blew past her face, sat against a cement block for a moment and got her breathing in order. It had taken a lot of her strength to move the heavy wooden panes. Probably because it had been months (maybe years) since she had attempted to open the windows.

 

After a few minutes to regulate her heartbeat, Cordelia started off again. She trailed her fingers along the rough cement of the wall, making sure to hit all the marks she’d made in case she’d needed to escape in an emergency. She stopped and swung her walking stick out to look for the lip of the outside door and smiled triumphantly when she successfully walked over it without stumbling. Small miracles were still miracles and she would celebrate anything at this point. 

 

She took a second to form a plan and decided that walking along the fence seemed safer than trying to walk the cement path to the front stairs. With a steady hand, she felt for the doorknob and opened the door. Quickly she was assaulted with a damp breeze that settled onto her face. The heat was not as bad as previous days, but she could still feel the damp blanket of humid air settling around her. 

 

Perhaps she should have changed into something lighter, it was unlikely that random strangers would put their hands on her. She was confident that she wouldn’t be bothered, especially since their neighbors were already leery of the group of women who always seemed to look like they were holding a perpetual funeral. Honestly, when Fiona had been there, Cordelia always seemed to be mourning something so perhaps they were. One thing she hadn’t planned for was rain, however. Hopefully she made it back in time to avoid any storms.

 

Slowly she made her way from the safety of the fenced in grass to the gate door. She stepped forward and noticed the change in texture below her feet. Now on the cement platform of the front terrace, she brandished her cane and started forward with a few baby steps to gain confidence. 

 

One.

Two.

Three.

 

With cautious steps, Cordelia placed one foot one each stair and gripped the railing until her palms began to sweat. A little piece of chipped paint jabbed at her finger and she hissed at the pain but did not let go. After she reached the bottom of the stairs, she let out a victorious cry. It had been so long since she’d been able to walk without some sort of human guidance. It was incredibly freeing. There was a moment where she felt ridiculous for celebrating something so minor. But, once again, she wouldn’t chastise herself for being proud.

 

She turned to the left and with large sweeping motions of her cane, walked until she came to what seemed to be the corner. To the left would be the big red house where she’d been bitten by a dog in her youth. It was sad though, she’d passed this spot for years and couldn’t tell you what the property looked like now. Had she really been so oblivious to her surroundings for so long? Could she even recognize her own surroundings. How long had it been since she had simply taken a stroll around the block?

 

After turning the next corner, Cordelia gained a sort of confidence. When she got past that one, she remembered that there was a break in the sidewalk that had been growing since her arrival at Miss Robichaux’s. With an extra amount of caution, she stepped onto it and smiled to herself when her cane detected the break in the cement. She carefully maneuvered over it and smiled as she made her way to the second to last corner. 

 

This one would prove tricky, due to the fact that the cement tapered off into a grassy knoll filled with tree roots and lots of stones. Memories of skinned knees and bloody elbows floated around her brain as Cordelia treaded carefully. Plenty of summers had lead to Myrtle scolding her for not paying attention to her surroundings. The irony of those summers versus now was not lost on her. If anything, she couldn’t say she didn’t know her surroundings anymore. In fact, she was hyper aware. She had to be. 

 

After what seemed like an hour, but according to her phone was only five minutes, Cordelia made it to the end of the rocky hill. It felt so menial to be excited at the idea of walking the block without injury. But, to be able to regain some of her independence and mobility was invigorating. Her calf muscles ached, and her chest heaved from the pure anxiety of many near-tumbles. 

 

During that she’d forgotten to swipe her cane and bumped into someone on the sidewalk as she turned the corner. Before the lost her balance, strong hands grabbed her arms and guided her back into a standing position. Completely embarrassed and engulfed in shame, Cordelia stuttered an apology as tears formed in her mutilated eyes. When they threatened to spill, the same hands found her cheeks and ring-adorned thumbs brushed the tears away. A warm not-quite-burning sensation followed the path of the comforting digits and at the contact, Cordelia was thrust into a vision of chilling darkness accompanied by the deepest, most torrential feeling of abandonment and desolation anyone could muster. It made her chest hurt and the urge to cry out in emotional pain was nearly unbearable. 

 

The hands left her cheeks and she looked up to the figure she’d knocked into. If only she could see the person’s face. She remembered her disfigurement and looked to the sidewalk - no one needed to see her face. 

 

“I’m terribly sorry, I should watch where I’m going.” Cordelia cringed at her poor choice of words. “Not that I can watch much of anything these days. Apologies.”

 

“Not to worry, ma’am. I’m tougher than I look. Don’t cry please. I’m a sucker for cryin’ ladies,” the warm molasses voice coated Cordelia’s soul as she struggled to maintain her composure. The cadence of the Cajun drawl coming from the woman in front of her was unexpected around this part of Louisiana. 

 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left my home. I can’t be trusted in public. I only hope I didn’t hurt you.” Cordelia wrapped her arms around herself, scratching at the silk fabric under her nails. 

 

The hands reappeared on her shoulder, just slightly above where she was hugging herself, and started to rub gently. It took everything Cordelia had to not flinch away. It had been too long; she was out of practice on how to accept affection. 

 

“Where do ya’ live, sugar?” 

 

“Just up there, with the columns and tall fence. It’s close.” Cordelia balled her fists into her side to prevent any more accidental contact. “You shouldn’t be alone either. What brings you to this side of town? No one usually comes around these parts unless they’re lost.” 

 

“I was bringing a friend home. I’m alright ma’am. Like I said, I’m tougher than I seem.  I can walk ya’, if you’re wantin’ company.” The hands left her shoulders and a chilled feeling took over from where they were. 

 

“I appreciate it, but it’s not necessary. I’m okay to handle myself,” Cordelia actively tried to tame the defensiveness in her voice. Whether she was successful was debatable. She heard the jingle of jewelry as the body in front of her moved out of her way. 

 

“Alright, just keep safe ya’ hear?” 

 

Cordelia nodded and continued on her way home. She’d been turned around in her scramble and she hoped that the woman she’d barged into had spun her in the right direction. As she walked away, she listened for any sign that the woman was walking away but one never happened. Of course she’d stay and keep watch. That’s what Cordelia would do in her position. Even if they were strangers, they were women and they needed to look out for each other. 

 

After a few moments of reaching her arm out, the familiar cast iron gate appeared next to her and she let out a long breath when she found the sign that bore the name of the Academy. With some hope and lot of precision, she pushed the gate open and started to conquer the stairs. Once she got to the top of the stairs, she looked to where the woman was likely still waiting and put up a hand in thanks. If she had already taken off and Cordelia was truly waving at an empty corner, well, the neighbors could pad their rumor pile. 

 

She unlocked the front door and once inside the house, kicked her boots off and let loose the few tears that she’d kept at bay. With angry fists she swiped at her eyes. She tore through the house, without a single care for anything in path. She punched at walls and swiped at paintings - even a lamp fell victim. Was her temper tantrum very ladylike? Hardly, but her outburst had been a long time coming. At least no one was home. 

 

She sat on a stool at the breakfast bar and sobbed. All the shame of being codependent and almost knocking a stranger over poured over her and soaked her skin with melancholy. This was more than a pity party. This was a farewell to the hopes and dreams that some day she would be a functional woman with some sort of worth to those around her. She stayed like that for a good hour, breath catching and shoulders hitching.


	6. Chapter 6

After she finished her tirade and her breathing had returned to normal, Cordelia grabbed a towel and patted at her eyes. She swiped her hands across her eyes a final time and braced for the repulsion she usually felt from the texture of her mottled skin. 

 

After a few moments she stopped when she realized that her scarring was finally healing. In fact, it seemed to be nearly gone. Perhaps the cosmetic routine Myrtle had suggested was finally working. It was a small relief, but she still didn’t wish to see herself. The sight was still too much to process. She could still tell she looked atrocious based on the reactions of the people around her. Their disgusted gasps and not-so-quiet whispers tormented her daily. Every time she ventured outdoors, she was treated like a menace to society. People even spoke slower and louder to her as if that would magically fix her sight. All of the terrible behavior had definitely taken its toll on her and had changed her forever. 

 

The darkness was looming and seemed to be here for good. What could she do to relieve it? Alcohol hadn’t worked, drugs were too close to home, self-mutilation was pointless - she was in enough pain every time she wiggled her nose. Maybe she should have just let Hank finish the job. Intrusive thoughts were becoming normal and it seemed futile to correct them. She silently prayed for death, even on the best of days. 

 

Then, at least Fiona would be worry-free and the girls could get a proper education. Even if she was better at teaching them, she knew that no matter what she did, it would be sub-par compared to what it could have been had Fiona been around. She was well aware that her powers paled in comparison to her supreme. But, her ego had once again perpetuated the delusion that she could actually amount to something. How naive. 

 

Without cleaning any of her mess, Cordelia trudged to the stairs and made her way up carefully. Once she got to her bedroom, she flopped onto the bed and immediately felt the agony her muscles were in. First she’d opened that heavy window, then she’d walked further than she had in ages, and finally she’d thrown a tantrum of epic proportions. No wonder she was so exhausted. It was a wonder that her clothes still fit considering all the binge eating and reckless drinking she’d done. Taking care of herself used to be a passion but now it just seemed a daunting task. 

 

Face down into her duvet, her hands roamed her side table for one of her pill bottles. She grabbed a random one, popped off the top and shook three into her mouth. Shaky hands tossed the pill bottle towards her nightstand. Her hand crept over the side of the bed for her water bottle but stopped when she landed on the whisky she’d hidden under the bed. Well, it would do. The bitter taste made her gag and the pills threatened to come back up. Her chest burned from neck to belly, making her retch. Eventually after some deep breaths and cold sweats, her body relaxed enough to let her sleep. 

  
  
  


Later that night found Cordelia still passed out on top of her blankets. The hiccups had eventually faded and so had her trembles. Rain beat against the window in waves. The drops sprayed against the panes next to her head. Polka dots chased by moonlight dribbled down the wallpaper while the wind snapped and crackled against the aged glass panes. 

 

Suddenly, a shattering noise came from below. At first, Cordelia dreamt it was Fiona smashing bottle after bottle against the wall. The wet glass shards cut at her skin, leaving her flayed like the girl she’d mutilated in her youth. She looked into a mirror and saw the most horrific of sights. She turned to tell her mother to stop and help her. As soon as she opened her mouth to yell, Fiona stopped and turned to her.  The Supreme’s eyes rolled back in her head and she began to chant in a foreign language. Her mother’s skin fell off in putrid, fleshy chunks that eventually formed a pile in front of Cordelia. She continued to stare at the bare bones of her mother and wondered if her death was actually a blessing. But, as Cordelia awoke further, she remembered that the supreme had been away for a while. She lay still for a moment, trying to relax her spasming muscles. She stayed quiet and held her breath so she could listen for any clue as to . what had woken her.

 

Nothing. 

 

Just the howl of the wind and the general creaks from the house. 

 

A deep moan cried out from below, and Cordelia gasped out loud in fear. Immediately she threw both hands over her mouth and stopped breathing. When she detected no noises again, she decided to check it out. It didn’t sound like Sybil, but perhaps the cat had angered one of the strays that had been running around. 

 

Suspiciously, she reached for her cane. Her fingers flitted across her side table and she cried out silently when the rod slipped from her fingers twice. She dropped to her knees and felt around the carpet furiously. She scooted back and forth around her room, unable to find her cane. After a few more desperate swipes, she decided to forego the cane and was able to right herself. She felt for her robe hanging on the door and finally made her way out of her room. She was sure that she was not going to win against whatever was happening, considering the likeliness that she’d survive being attacked was mediocre at best. Sending everyone away for the weekend was not her brightest idea. 

 

With light steps, she padded barefoot down the stairs. The grip on the stairs tore at her skin and she hissed in pain every time she touched another step. Each groan of the wood made her jump. Hopefully whatever entity was downstairs was deaf. What a pair  _ they _ would make. A breath lodged itself in her chest, unable to escape until she finally reached the bottom of the staircase. 

 

Hands extended, Cordelia felt for a wall to guide her when she felt a terrible pain in her foot. She went to scream and tempered it off into a quiet hiss instead. She stood motionless on one leg, waiting for the pounding in her heart and the burning in her foot to calm down. She tentatively reached down to feel what had cut her foot. 

 

To her dismay, it was part of the shattered lamp. Well, that’s what it felt like. Served her right for leaving it on the floor like a sloppy fool. She tried her best to balance on one leg as her desperate fingers tried their best to dislodge the piece in her foot. Ever the graceful person, she lost her balance and instinctively set her foot down to right herself. The piece was pushed in further and Cordelia cried out in pain and fell to the floor.  Her knees slammed against the wood and pain radiated throughout her body. 

 

A small whimper came from the far right towards the greenhouse, startling Cordelia again. With bloody hands, she crawled away from the lamp wreckage and out towards the kitchen. Once she got as far as the kitchen stools, she made one last to attempt to stand and walk until an errant shoe promptly tripped her, sending her headfirst into the kitchen cabinets. 

 

Disoriented, she slid across the stony counter, smearing blood and whatever else was on her hands across the cold marble. It was a couple of minutes until she could get herself under control. The fight part of her was telling her to use to powers to protect herself against whatever was out there; the flight part was telling her to hide in the cabinets until the girls came home in a few days. She was frightened, exhausted, hungover, and beaten to a pulp. 

 

Plus, she was blind to any danger. At this point, her chance of survival was lowering drastically. Her foot was on fire and her head was throbbing in her ears. Finally, she stood and hopped to the greenhouse door. After a few deep breaths, she pressed an ear to the heavy wood and hoped that she could hear what was wrong. Quiet cries emanated from the room and for a moment Cordelia thought one of the girls had come home. She took a moment to control her breathing and pressed an ear to the cold door one more. 

 

“You can quit hidin’ there ma’am, I’m not gonna hurt ‘cha.” 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh we are in the thick of it now!

Cordelia froze. 

 

The voice was familiar but no names came to mind. Perhaps a neighbor? What were they doing in her greenhouse?

 

“Who are you, why are you in my house?” she hopped through the door and cried out as a hand touched her bare arm, pushing her backwards. Suddenly a vision of the whitest light she’d even seen burned her eyes and she felt the most intense burning pain she’d even felt splash from her head to her toes. It felt as if she was sizzling from the inside out. Her hair follicles pulled as she felt her muscles cooking in the flames. Her skin became rough and she smelled a putrid burning smell.  

 

Cordelia gagged and shook out of the grip, falling forwards into the greenhouse. She stuck out her arms, expecting a cold blow to the cement of the floor. Instead, the same hands wrapped themselves around her torso and pulled her upright against a warm body. She was then hoisted onto a cement slab like a child, her backside slamming into the cool surface. She was sure that it would bruise by morning. Well, just add that to the collection of bruises that were already formed. The cool cement burned against her thighs as she fought to not panic. The rain was louder down here, making it almost impossible to hear anything. 

 

Her muscles clenched as she curled her hands into her lap and tried to make herself small. Panic started to set in and soon the feeling in her legs was wavering, Cordelia could tell she was just staving off a panic attack. She tried to catch her breath, but all she managed was a garbled cry. Her fists opened and rubbed nervously down her robed thighs as she angrily pulled at the scratched silk beneath her. She’d been taken hostage in her own home. How useless was she?

 

“Ma’am, don’t walk anywhere. Kyle here, he -”

 

Cordelia’s head lifted at the familiar name “Kyle? Kyle’s here?” 

 

“Yeah.”

 

She waited a moment for the girl to explain. They sat there for an awkward pause until the girl seemed to catch on. 

 

“He, uh, we’re old friends now. Uh, he accidentally put his uh hand through that there window’ tryin’ to close it and hurt himself somethin’ fierce. I got it though, the window and his hand. I didn’t want your flowers to drown so I got those first.”

 

“He’s okay?” Cordelia was able to stammer out. “I don’t care so much about the flowers.”

 

It hurt her to say it. But, in the end the greenhouse - while being one of her major passions - was just a hobby, a collection. Even if they seemed to be the most stable relationships in her life, the plants in the greenhouse still paled in comparison to a human life. Even if it was Kyle’s.

 

“Kyle is fine. An’ I’m calling your bluff on the flowers Ms..?’

 

“Cordelia”

 

“Aha, Miss Cordelia. I can tell these plants are filled to the brim with love and affection. They told me so. They tell me you love ‘em like children. You’re a good plant Mama and they’re very grateful.”

 

Cordelia just blushed and tilted her head down towards her feet. Being blind didn’t prevent her from being submissive when complimented. Eye contact was eye contact, even if one set no longer functioned. Why she was ashamed of her plants, she did not know. Was she embarrassed of the love she could give? Had it been that long since someone had given her praise in its most basic form? 

 

“I’m sorry to sound so crass But, who  _ are _ you?” Cordelia asked suspiciously. “Also, you didn’t really tell me why you were here.” 

 

“Name’s.. Rhiannon.” the woman offered. She sounded hesitant, but Cordelia could tell the woman wasn’t dangerous. If she had been, she could have killed her when she fell into the greenhouse. It wasn’t like she was hard to capture or anything. Plus, the sweet scent of innocence flowed off the woman in warm waves. It almost seemed like she was familiar in some way. Perhaps it would come up in conversation. Especially since the vision she’d caused Cordelia left the witch with a lot of questions. 

 

The sound of glass being swept made Cordelia cringe. The scraping of the bits against the cement made her body shiver and her teeth hurt. It was one of the noises she absolutely hated. But, she would not complain because she was in no condition to do anything. Not only was her intruder kind, she was sweeping up the mess in the greenhouse. Even strangers had to take care of her. This was a mess. She was a mess. 

 

“Well, hello  _ Rhiannon _ . I hate to seem ungrateful for your help but what are you doing in my greenhouse and how the  _ hell _ do you know Kyle?” Cordelia tried to slide off the slab and hollered when her bare, injured foot made contact with the ground. She hopped back up and tried her best to ignore the scraping of the slab against the back of her bruised thighs. She truly was trapped here. 

 

“Oh, you’re hurt too! Heavens above -  I didn’t realize. Apologies.” Rhiannon went quiet for a moment and Cordelia heard her shuffling around. 

 

”I know Zoe too. She ain’t visited in a while tho’. Kyle, he visits me when he can. We’re friends.” the Cajun drawl of the woman was soothing to Cordelia. She spoke in a half-whisper. Kind of like she was afraid of calling attention to herself. “I don’t have many of those, so I try to be there for them when they need me.”

 

“They...visit you? In a swamp?”

 

“Well, Zoe doesn’t no more. But Kyle comes when he can. It’s hard to talk to him sometimes but he’d a damn good listener if ya give him a chance. Miss Cordelia, could you just settle for one second while I pull this glass outta your foot? It’ll smart somethin’ fierce, but I gotta get it now so it’ll heal. Hey, Kyle!”

 

“Kyle?” Cordelia called. She jumped when a cold hand took hers. She turned to face towards him and maternally stroked a hand over his arm, shoulder, and face. Visions of him being buried in mud flittered in her mind, along with hazy memories of Zoe fighting someone over him. She then saw him lying in a bed, bobbing his head to an older song. It was strange to get this sneak peek of his life. She was ashamed to admit that with his penchant for silence, she hadn’t really thought about how his mind would be intact. 

 

It was strange, she’d known Kyle for almost a year but had never truly questioned how Zoe and Madison were able to reanimate him. After seeing some of the shenanigans that those two were able to get into, it was probably for the best. 

 

She squeezed his hand in return and grimaced at whatever it was covered in. She raised her hand to her nose and sniffed, terrified of what it could be.

 

“S’mud. Swamp mud is magical.” The girl’s voice startled Cordelia. She jumped as chilled fingers touched her foot and she cried out in pain as the piece of lamp was removed. Had she not had a wound, it probably would have tickled. 

 

Cordelia cried and cursed herself for the tears that fell. She was humiliated. Crippled. A freak on display. Here she was, rendered useless by a twenty dollar lamp that laid in pieces on her floor. She continued to weep silently while Rhiannon wrapped her foot. 

 

Cordelia let go of Kyle’s hand and wiped her hand on the hip of her already destroyed robe. She felt around her scalp and winced at the large lump that was forming. Hopefully, if she ever made it out of this greenhouse alive, she could find some aspirin in the kitchen without accidentally poisoning herself. 

 

They all sat there in silence for a few minutes. She could hear Kyle pulling the garbage bag out of the bin near the door. In the far corner she heard a soft hum and the rustle of fabric. Rhiannon’s voice was smooth and beautiful in its own way. It wasn’t exactly on pitch - as if Cordelia would know. But, it was close. Her feet were scraping against the cement slightly, and if she wasn’t mistaken, was dancing or at least moving around quickly. The noise of whatever she was wearing made something click in Cordelia’s mind. 

 

“Are you the same woman from earlier? In the street?” 

 

“Yes’m. I’m sorry if I frightened ya’ then. Or even just now. I didn’t mean to.” The voice came from her left now. “I just come when I’m called.”

 

“Well, now that I know that you’re not trying to kill me. Why are you in here? Not that I don’t enjoy your company in the middle of the night.”

 

“Uh, Miss Cordelia it’s eight in the evenin’.”

 

“It is?”

 

“Yeah. I was helpin’ Kyle over here. He gets awful lonely when Zoe’s gone. So, he came to my cabin and we were singin’ Stevie together. But, I had a feelin’ so I brought him back here to be safe. I don’t want anyone to get hurt anymore.” the woman’s voice got quieter as she went on. Eventually she ended with a whisper. 

 

“What do you mean by ‘a feeling’?”

 

“I can’t really explain it. I don’t have the words to. I’m not that educated Ma’am.”

 

The reluctance in her voice ebbed at Cordelia’s defenses. Obviously, the girl was not used to many people questioning her.

 

“Are you safe?” Cordelia reached a hand out; perhaps some contact would help them both understand each other. 

 

What happened after is not what she expected. 


	8. Chapter 8

 

A warm hand grabbed hers, tentative fingers brushed against the thin skin on the back of Cordelia’s hand. She felt a slight tremble, a vulnerability of sorts. Her palm felt rough, but not too weathered. Like, the woman had seen hard work but also had the softness of a woman’s grasp.

 

The vision shot through Cordelia from top to toes, sending a bolt of incandescent pain throughout her body once more. Her body went taught - her muscles contorted as she felt the pain from earlier nip and her legs and scorch her skin. She contorted and screamed in pain as she felt her skin crackle and peel once more. She saw a crowd of men chanting at her with pitchforks.The tangy smell of gasoline made her eyes tear up, blurring her vision into some kaleidoscope of fire. 

 

_ It’s you who will end in flames - I swear it! _

 

As the vision faded out, Cordelia felt her body slam into the cold cement below. Her skull bounced against the ground and if she was capable of sight, it would surely be compromised. 

She lay there, painfully gasping for breath. Her throat, still raw from the screaming and her vision, retaliated as her yowl ended in a series of coughs.

  
  


Immediately, warm hands wrapped around her body and helped right her. She was guided back to the slab, and scooted up once more. Her hands flew to her scalp, where she could still feel the burning sensation. She cried out in pain. Each strand of hair was ablaze with pain. She began to tremble and Cordelia knew she was precariously close to blacking out. 

 

Warm hands covered hers and fingers intertwined as a calming feeling entered her. It trickled through her like milk in coffee. It pooled in her belly as her lungs, no longer tender from flames, expanded. They stayed that way for a few seconds, both breathing heavily. After a bit, the pain in her head subsided to nothing more than a minor irritations. Seemingly unimportant visions played like home movies in her subconscious, cut and pasted with no rhyme or reason. 

 

It all made sense. . 

 

“You’re Misty Day. You’re the burned Cajun girl. You’re alive?” Cordelia gasped and grabbed for the woman. When both of their hands met and all of their fingers twined together, a calm she hadn’t known in so long rippled through her body. She gripped Misty’s hands so tightly, she could feel the other girl’s pulse. Suddenly a wind whipped around them and the scent of lavender took over the whole room. Little pieces of flowers landed on Codelia’s cheeks and she blew them away - unable to wipe the smile off of her face. 

 

They let go of each other’s hands and Cordelia felt Misty’s fingertips plucking remnants of their little magical tornado out of her hair. 

 

Misty let out a low hum. “I’m sorry for lyin’ Miss Cordelia. I just hafta keep safe. If they know I’m here, they’ll burn me again. I can’t risk it. No one can know I’m alive.” 

 

“Who is they?” Cordelia’s interest was piqued. She had dedicated her whole life to protecting witches, so to see (or rather feel) one so vulnerable was unsettling. Even when she’d read about the girl burned alive, her heart ached for a witch that had slipped under their radar. 

 

Cordelia could feel the witch’s eyes on her so she used her other senses to try and feel her out. If she focused she could her the flutter of the layers she wore and she smelled a bit of oak. Not like faux Christmas scent, but of someone who spent a lot of time talking or scaling trees. 

 

“I don’t know all of them. Some were familiar. They came to my swamp and tore up my place. They broke my Stevie and shredded my notes’.” She let go of Cordelia’s hands and the jingle of rings caught her attention again. “All I did was help that little bird and they hurt me because of it.”

 

Their moment was over, and Cordelia could tell that the witch in front of her was very close to breaking. She could hear the wringing of her hands and the unsteady breathing coming from the woman in front of her. 

 

“Are you safe? You told me you were safe earlier.” Cordelia pointed out without a judgmental tone. 

 

“I am, from the nasties of the human world. But, these people after me? I got bad vibes from ‘em. They didn’t seem real. Ya know? They are dark - they are the darkness.”

 

She pondered this for a moment and came to a decision. 

 

“Okay. Misty?”

 

“Yes Miss Cordelia?” Misty’s voice trembled. Cordelia yearned to touch her again, even if the visions were almost unbearable. 

 

“Whatever troubles you had, they are ours now. You are under the protection of this coven. This is your house. We are your family, and we will protect you until our last breaths.” She opened her arms and didn’t flinch when Misty slid right into the hug and squeezed tightly. She committed the feel of soft hair against her face and the texture of the many fabrics under her fingers to memory and tried to build a mental picture of the witch in front of her. 

 

“Miss Cordelia.. I truly don’t know what to say. I would love to join ya but I don’t have any of my stuff. I gotta go back to the swamps. I wasn’t expecting to stay.”

 

“Could you at least stay here tonight? We can go tomorrow? I’ll go with you. Kyle can come too.” Cordelia bargained weakly. Hopefully the woman didn’t pick up on the desperation in her voice. 

 

“I s’pose I could do that. Would you really wanna go to my place with me? It’s not very pretty, and its tiny.”

 

“So long as you can guide me. As you can tell, I’m not so hot with walking alone. Besides, out of all people I definitely am not qualified to judge beauty.”

 

“I’ve gotcha. Don’t ya worry about fallin’ with me around, Miss Cordelia. I’ll protect you all right back.”

 

“That’s very kind of you. To be honest, I just want to collapse into bed and sleep for a century. But, I don’t want to try those stairs again with my injury. Should we just pull out the couch and sleep there?” Cordelia slid off the slab and gingerly touched her injured foot to the ground. She felt a squelch from her bandage and stopped. 

 

“Uh, Misty. What’s in this bandage?” 

 

A hefty chuckle came from her side and she instinctively turned her head towards the noise.

 

“Well, Miss Cordelia, that’s good ol’ Louisiana mud. Straight from the swamp. My swamp to be exact. Though, I don’t actually own it. No one should own-”

 

“You put  _ mud  _ on my open  _ wound _ ? I thought you were joking!” 

 

“Sure did. I promise it’s all right. It has healin’ properties. I swear it. Here, give me your arm, I’ll help you get back to inside. You should heal up pretty fast.”


	9. Chapter 9

As they left the greenhouse, Cordelia locked the door behind them with a wave of her hand. Misty’s hands stayed steady around her neck and against her back. Cordelia nearly fell over when she felt the hand on her back start to slowly stroke the silk of her ruined nightgown. Eventually they made it back to the kitchen. With only a little discomfort, Cordelia managed to get onto a stool and pull the dirty nightgown over her knees. 

 

“Miss Cordelia. I’m real sorry for burstin’ in like that. It’s now how I meant to meet ya. How about I have Kyle get you a new sleep shirt and I’ll make some tea. Then, I’ll explain it all to you. Is that all right?”

 

“That would be fine. Except,” Cordelia laughed as she scrunched up her face in embarrassment. Goodness, she was glad it was dark in the kitchen.

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Could you grab it. Second door on the right. I’m sorry, it’s just..I feel weird about Kyle digging through my clothes. Pajamas are in the chiffarobe. First drawer from the top and left.”

 

Misty chuckled and got up from the counter. She patted Cordelia’s shoulder and trudged off, leaving the headmistress blushing and smiling into the dark. 

 

Kyle grunted and soon the sound of water running filled the room. She heard the stove top ignite and was impressed at his abilities. Zoe and Madison had done a pretty good job at teaching him things. Footsteps on the stairs sounded and soon a handful of fabric was pushed into her hand, along with her cane. Bless Misty for thinking of her. 

 

“Do you have a downstairs bathroom? I could lead ya. I don’t want you to hurt yourself again.” Misty’s breath blew across Cordelia’s ear, as if they were exchanging secrets. Cordelia nodded and motioned into the darkness. 

 

“It’s just around the kitchen. It’s alright, I can manage.” 

 

“I trust ya. Please be careful. I’d reckon you could lose the mud boot too. Your foot is probably good as new.”

 

Cordelia nodded and set off towards the bathroom. She turned the corner and slid against the wall. She felt for the doorknob and walked in. 

 

After changing out of her nightgown and raking a washcloth up and down her legs, Cordelia sat on the closed toilet for a moment and let herself decompress. She had no idea how long she’d been in the greenhouse. But, in the time since she’d been startled awake she’d nearly bled out, been held hostage in her own greenhouse, met a witch who was supposedly dead, and learned that mud was magic. 

 

Today had been exciting compared to the boring morning she’d had. When she’d asked for more excitement in her life, this is not what she had expected. She sat there for a while longer until her legs ached from inactivity. Eventually, she exited the bathroom and stopped when she heard Misty talking. 

 

“Do ya think she likes me? I don’t know, Kyle. I didn’t mean to be so scary. I didn’t realize that was her earlier ya know? Gosh. She is kinda purdy though. I know, I know. I’m just saying! Don’t give me that look, Sir! It’s just the way that Zoe talked about her, you’d think she was some swamp monster or something. Ain’t nothing that a lil’ swamp mud can’t fix.”

 

Cordelia’s shoulders slumped. She knew that Zoe probably didn’t mean anything by her callous comments regarding her eyes. But, it still stung. She hadn’t seen herself up close yet, just at a distance in some visions from the girls. But, it didn’t take 20/20 vision to tell that her mangled face was a topic of discussion more than she’d prefer. 

 

But, at least Misty had called her pretty. So, that was something. 

 

Cordelia hoped to eventually put a face to the name, but it seemed trivial at this point. She guessed that by the sounds she emitted, that the Cajun liked layers and lots of jewelry. But, that’s as far as her mind could go. 

She rounded the corner and tried to hide her hurt pride as her cane made contact with a stool. Cordelia sat down and smiled at the sound of a saucer sliding and heat from the offered tea in front of her. 

 

“Thank you.” she said to no one in particular. 

 

“It was nothin’. It’s just Liptons. I think Kyle just wanted to help out. He already cleaned up most of the mess down here while I was pouring the tea.” Misty tapped her fingers against the counter. “‘I’ll bet you have a few questions. Don’t ya?”

 

Cordelia set her tea cup down on the saucer and tried to choose her wording carefully. “I do, but I want you to feel safe. I just need a few answers before the girls come back so I can explain you to them.”

 

“I understand, Miss Cordelia. Fire away! I won’t answer what I don’t wanna.” 

 

“Well, my first one is basic. How’d you survive being burned alive? I can’t imagine anyone surviving that?”

 

“Zoe calls it Resurgence. All I know is that they tossed me in the swamp before I was finished dyin’ and it hurt like all hell.  But, eventually I could open my eyes and see that I was reborn from the mud. I stayed like that for awhile - I don’t know how long though. Ya see, I’ve been in those woods for quite a while. So, I couldn’t even tell ya how old I am.”

 

Cordelia’s face contorted as she tried her best not to cry. The vulnerability in Misty’s voice was palpable. No wonder she’d been so scared of giving out her true identity.

 

“Do you know when you were born?” Cordelia’s heart broke when Misty just sighed in return. 

 

“Not really. I didn’t have anything but the Holy Bible. I grew up in the church. My only friends were frogs and my little sister. But, I doubt we even exist, truly. My parent’s weren’t so keen on the government. It’s a blessin’ that I can read and write. Spelling isn’t so great, but at least I can write.”

 

A breathy “Misty” was all the Cordelia could respond with. 

 

“My Ma, she wasn’t so bad. Spanked me somethin’ fierce tryin’ to smack the devil outta me, but always said she was sorry once Daddy left for work. He wasn’t so great. But, I don’t like to talk about him much.”

 

“I think I understand. My mother isn’t exactly mother-of-the-year either. I don’t know who my father is.”

 

“Did your Daddy burn ya for savin’ a bird?”

 

“No. Oh my. Misty. That’s so terrible. Your Father was the one?”

 

“Him and the men from the church, yeah.”

 

“I’m so sorry. I won’t press.” Cordelia moved her head to face her tea. Tears threatened to spill as her heart ached for the poor girl in front of her.

 

“I appreciate it. It is nice though, talkin’ to someone who can talk back. No offense to Kyle.”

 

“Wait, where’d Kyle go?”

 

“Oh, he left a few minute ago. He gets uncomfortable when I talk about burnin’. I think it’s because it makes him think of his time in the mud. They aren’t the best memories I’d reckon.”

 

“He was in the mud too?” Cordelia asked.

 

Misty let out a quiet chuckle. “Not my story to tell, to be honest. But, I’d say we have similar stories.”

 

“Thank you for talking to me, Misty. I know you don’t know me very well, but it’s been a long while since I was able to just chat with someone. Even if it’s about traumatic events. I appreciate the trust involved with that.”

 

“Well, you don’t strike me as the outright dangerous type.” 

 

Cordelia shrugged and pushed her tea towards the middle of the counter. She folded her arms and laid her head against them. “I try not to be. I don’t like being a lunatic with lethal combat skills.” 

 

“I don’t think you’re a loon, Miss Cordelia. I just think you’re someone who put a lotta good in the world and only got shit in return.” Misty’s hand appeared on her shoulder. “We should tuck in, I think. I got a feelin’ tomorrow is gonna be a long day.”

 

Cordelia nodded as she slid off the stool and let herself be lead to the couch. With minimal effort, they tossed the pillows to the side and pulled out the bed inside. Cordelia pulled a few blankets out of the storage ottoman and handed one to the woman beside her. She motioned toward the light switch, and when Misty gasped she knew that she’d been able to turn the lights off with magic. It felt good to flex her magic. For far too long she’d stifled it, kept it buried deep down inside her. But to hear Misty’s gasp of wonder. Well, that made everything worth it. 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the errors with the last update. Google Docs really isn't my friend. Thanks for the patience!

As they both got tucked into the bed, the storm outside raged once more.

 

“If that rain doesn’t quit soon, it’ll be too nasty to go get my things.” Misty whispered.

 

Cordelia rolled over to face the Cajun witch, “We’ll find a way, Misty.”

 

“I believe ya.”

 

“Can I ask you one more thing?”

 

“Sure Miss ‘Delia.”

 

Cordelia smiled into her pillow. It had been quite a long time since someone had said her nickname with love rather than disappointment. 

 

“Earlier, when I asked why you were here. You told me that you were takin’ Kyle home. But, why were you out on the sidewalk earlier?”

 

Misty sighed, “I was wonderin’ if you’d remember that. Uh, it’s a little hard to explain. But, sometimes I get a feelin’, kinda like a callin? It’s kinda like someone put their hand in my guts and yanked. Like, it’s just like I’m _ needed _ somewhere. Usually when I get it it, it’s a dyin’ gator or a squirrel. I’ve only had it happen twice with a human. Once was with Kyle when Zoe was tryin’ to bring him back.”

 

“When was the second time?” Cordelia felt the witch scoot closer to her. 

 

“Ehh,” Misty whispered. “The second time was you.”

 

Cordelia blinked a few times, trying to understand when she would have called for help.

 

“It wasn’t a physical callin’, I should specify. It’s more of an urge. I’d been feelin’ it for a few weeks now. I didn’t want to invade your space, though. So, I waited outside to see if maybe I could pick up just why you needed healin’ so bad.” Misty cupped Cordelia’s cheek, her thumb tracing the scars around her eyes.

 

Cordelia’s heart fluttered at the contact, and was surprised when the image of the Academy at night flooded her vision. Her bedroom was the only one illuminated. A vague shadow that must have been her was walking back and forth with arms extended to the sky. To be honest, it could have been any night in the past few months. They all seemed to end the same. 

 

“I like that I can show ya stuff. You know, without havin’ to use so many words. Sometimes I just don’t like talkin’. I don’t always have the words for the things. I’m not very educated.”

 

“Oh goodness, Misty, sweetheart. You have no idea how great is to just speak to someone. I’ve been isolated for so long. Honestly, I can’t even remember the last time someone asked me a question that didn’t involve the Academy.” 

 

The hand left her cheek and the witch next to her hummed happily. “Well, I plan on askin’ ya all kinds of questions. Tomorrow though. Goodnight, Miss Delia.”

 

“Goodnight.”

 

She lay there for awhile, flat on her back and grinning at the ceiling. To have someone interested in anything she had to say was kind of overwhelming. Also, the thought of someone caring so much as to wait outside her window for weeks without even knowing her was part harrowing, part flattering. 

 

Mostly flattering. 

  
  


_ Are you? Are you really?  _

 

_ Delia I- _

 

_ No! I won’t take this, Hank. I risked everything for you. I put my entire career - my entire family on the line for you. You told me you were a good man; that your Father was the biggest evil in your life. I loved you! _

 

_ I love you too.  _

 

_ Loved! I said loved! You have been lying this entire time. I can’t go home, Hank! I left them alone FOR THE WEEKEND so we could get married. I refuse to stay with you!  _

 

_ Delia I- _

 

_ No, Hank. Is that even your name? Do I know anything about you? _

 

_ Well, listen here bitch. You decided to marry me. I never lied - you never asked. What kind of decision was that? To leave all your responsibilities behind? What would Fiona say to this?  _

 

_ That’s terrible. Why would you say that? I only asked you if you had a redheaded girlfriend in Boston.  _

 

_ Why? Did one of your precious girls tell you that? They’re all frauds, Cordelia. You run a glorified halfway house, don’t kid yourself. You have the rejects of the world - no one loves them. No one loves you! _

 

_ You loved me. You just told me.  _

 

_ I’m a liar, Cordelia. You said so yourself.  _

 

_ Hank, please let me go.  _

 

_ Oh, my precious Delia. I have a surprise you’ll never see coming.  _

 

A heavy weight was placed on her chest and Cordelia felt as if she was drowning. Nightmares were common, however she hadn’t replayed the conversation between her and Hank for quite a while. The weight burned her ribs and a pain started in her throat. It pierced her skin, and she felt blood drip onto the surface behind her. A desperate howl whipped around her, goosebumps rising on her skin. 

 

She took a deep breath and heaved, forcing the weight off her chest as the pain in her throat vanished. She sat up in bed and fisted the blankets around her. Shaking hands went to her throat and found a scratch, nothing more. A sigh came from her right and she squinted, out of habit. Of course it was moot. 

 

Based on the soft purrs coming from her right, she figured Sybil was now sleeping right on top of Misty, who still slept beside her. In her younger years, the black cat had learned that she could wake Cordelia from her nightmares by laying on her chest. Unfortunately it seemed that solution was no longer feasible now that her nightmares had gained intensity. She wanted to ask her phone was time it was, but she didn’t know how light of a sleeper Misty was. Based on how quiet it was, it seemed to be pretty early still. 

 

She reached a still-shaking arm out in the dark and patted the soft fur of her pet. In return she was rewarded with one head nuzzle, and a love bite. A vision of Sybil’s memories permeated through her and it was oddly uplifting to see all kinds of of legs and black shoes walking around her. Then, the cat saw a mouse of the corner of her eyes, and Cordelia made sure to pull away before she got a front row seat to rodent carnage. 

 

Sybil stretched, knocking Cordelia’s hand off of her.

 

Cordelia was strangely envious, of the cat or Misty she was not sure. Either way, it would be rather great to be surrounded by love and warmth. To be protected, rather than be protected sounded divine. Alas, such comfort was not in the cards for the Headmistress. She would have to once again store her wants and needs in the back of her mind. 

 

She rolled over, her back facing her bed mates and stared blankly towards the kitchen. Many times she’d slept in the common room in her adult years. Usually she would stare out the window and count the stars. Sometimes, she would stare at the bleary numbers of the microwave in the dark. 

 

But, she was blind, and none of those things were here to help. Romantic comedies and famous novels would always talk about listening to heartbeats, or counting the breaths of lovers. Cordelia had none of those. Besides, counting made her anxious. 

 

So did lovers. 

 

In short: everything made her anxious. 

 

It was the gnawing feeling of Fiona’s disapproval over her shoulder that made her legitimately unable to make any sort of decision or observation without thoroughly obsessing over it. It was a problem she’d been working on for years. Unfortunately, every time the manipulative snake of a witch came slithering back to the Coven, it set Cordelia’s 

 

She felt the bed shift and the little patter of feet bounce across until a wet nose poked her behind her ear. Cordelia lifted her arm under the blanket and Sybil wiggled into the spot flush against her back. She kneaded against Cordelia’s spine and purred softly under the blanket. The act alone was relaxing and Cordelia soon felt her eyes grow heavy again. Perhaps she would be able to get some good sleep in spite of her nightmares. 

 

She fell into a sort of dreamless sleep. A few hours later, she felt Sybil’s claws in her back and jumped awake. With a grunt, she opened the blanket for the cat and hissed with the morning chill invaded her cocoon of comfort.

 

“It’s a little chilly this morning, ain’t it?” Misty’s drawl was especially apparent in her early morning whispers. The husk of the simple sentence was ridiculously enticing. Cordelia blamed it on the pure joy of just having someone to speak to in the morning. For the most part that was true, but a little bit of her was blushing over the sing-song rough cadence of the simple salutation. 

 

“Yes, it definitely is. I’ll get up and turn the heat up a few degrees.” Cordelia rolled over to face where Misty would be. She pulled the blanket up to her chin and rolled back and forth a few times to make sure she was tucked in all around. “In a minute. When I’m not so cold.”

 

“I’d offer to do it for ya, but I’m not very good at machines. Especially if ya gotta touch somethin’.” Misty said with a chuckle. 

 

“Do you have a phone?” Cordelia asked surprised. She swallowed the urge to invite the woman she’d only just met. While she wasn’t the most socially fluent, Cordelia knew that she shouldn’t crowd Misty.

 

“Nope. Never have. I ain’t got no one to call.” 

 

“Family, friends, anyone?” She knew before she finished her question that she’d stuck her foot in her mouth.

 

“Nope. I don’t even think I remember how.  I’ve only used a telephone twice. The Church one was old, and I remember it ringin’ all the time. But, I don’t think they’re like that anymore. I had to call my Daddy when my Mama died, and I wasn’t very good at it. Second time was when I was babysittin’ for the neighbors and the oven caught fire.”

 

“I didn’t realize your mother had passed. Do you miss her? By the way you describe her, I can’t tell if she was amazing or downright terrible.” Cordelia asked without judgement. 

 

“I do miss her, I do. But, I’m a little angry at her. I don’t talk about it much. My words ain’t comin’ out right.” Misty sighed loudly and continued. “She didn’t mean to die when she did.”

 

“And your father?” Cordelia kicked herself for asking. But, she had so many questions about this mysterious witch in her bed. A feeling deep in her bones told her that she needed to learn as much as she could. 

 

“Daddy sure didn’t take it well. I don’t miss him. He ain’t dead or nothin’.  I don’t miss my family ‘cept for my little sister.. But, I don’t think she’d remember me anyways. Even when I lived at home, my Daddy made sure that I didn’t see her. Said I still had the devil inside me.” Misty’s voice got quiet. “I’m not sure that I don’t.”

 

Cordelia slid one hand out from her bundle of blankets and smiled when Misty’s hand took hers. A couple of memories of a baby  being bathed along and being rocked in a cradle swam before her. They faded out and Cordelia was teary with the sheer joy of someone just holding her hand. It was the small things. There was no way Misty could be evil. She’d faced evil - been raised by evil. No, she was not evil.  

 

“I don’t think you do.”

 

“Hmm?” Misty sounded wistful, like hand-spun candy sparkling in the sun. 

 

“Have the Devil in you.”

 

The Cajun witch squeezed her hand in return, “I appreciate that, Miss Cordelia. I really do. But it’s tellin’ the mean ol’ voices in my head that’s provin’ kinda difficult.”

 

“I understand that sentiment; quite well actually. Perhaps..perhaps that could be something we work on..together.”

 

“Oh, I would love that.” Misty squeezed Cordelia’s hand once again. “I really would.”

  
  



	11. Chapter 11

 

Later that day found them in the kitchen again. Kyle had conveniently reappeared right before breakfast. Cordelia had been anxiously wringing her hands, debating on how to tell Misty that if she wanted food that she’d have to make it. All she could do was toss a cup in the coffee maker and add water. Thankfully she’d been so addicted to caffeine before her accident, she’d memorized the buttons beforehand. It felt absolutely terrible to be such a piss poor host - she was unable to even feed her guest. Thankfully, when they’d entered the kitchen after remaking the hide-a-bed and folding the blankets, Misty had cried out in what seemed like joy at the sight of their various baked goods. 

 

Cordelia had no idea what kind of life the girl had lived but if she’d been deprived of such things like affection, communication, and bagels. Well, she’d have to assume the worst. 

 

Breakfast had been a quiet event. Occasionally, Kyle would burp or a fork would scrape against a plate. No one really spoke. Considering Cordelia now knew more about Misty than she did about Kyle, it was a little awkward. In essence they were all strangers to each other. Well, apparently Misty and Kyle went way back, but it seemed like something Cordelia didn’t want to ask about. Sometimes ignorance was truly bliss, especially when Zoe and Madison were involved. 

 

“Where’s all the girls at? This is a school yeah?” Misty’s voice broke the silence. Cordelia sent a silent thanks for breaking the tension. 

 

“It’s the last few weeks of summer so I let them have some time off. Zoe should be back the day after tomorrow. But, Myrtle said she thought that Zoe would want to stay longer once she realized how fun her powers could be.”

 

“What is she doin’?”

 

“Practicing telekinesis in Scotland.” Cordelia took another sip of lukewarm coffee. 

 

“What’s that?” Misty sounded like she was genuinely interested. Cordelia’s heart fluttered a little bit. 

 

“Telekinesis or Scotland?” 

 

“Both?”

 

Oh, Misty had so much to learn. But, Cordelia was determined to teach her. Besides, she was part of the coven now. So, she could learn from her peers. 

 

Once Cordelia introduced them of course. 

 

Once they’d gotten through with their morning meal, they’d split for a while. Cordelia had claimed the upstairs shower. She’d showed Misty how to work the faucet and where the soaps were. Then, she’d kindly asked for Misty’s clothes so she could toss them in the laundry while they showered and got ready. What she didn’t expect is for Misty to just drop trow and hand them over. But, it made sense if she was blind. Kyle had gone off somewhere else and Cordelia couldn’t peep even if she wanted to. Which she did not want to do, because that would have been rude. 

 

So, after a particularly awkward few minutes of explaining how to transfer clothes into the dryer, Cordelia finally made her way upstairs. Her body ached with the strain of all her physical activity yesterday and the uncomfortable paper-thin mattress they’d slept on. Each step up lead to burn in her hamstrings and more than once her calves threatened to cramp. Her foot felt fine though, which was curious but also pretty handing considering the fact that they were walking to the Bayou today. 

 

After she got to her bedroom and deposited her dirty clothes into her hamper, she made her way to the closet to try and pick out an outfit. This was going to be the tough part. She generally only wore black, but she was incredibly particular about her appearance and not all blacks matched. She’d usually call for Zoe in the morning. Sometimes she would ask Nan, but the sensitive girl didn’t like giving negative feedback to anyone so it was hard to trust her opinion sometimes. 

 

Queenie didn’t like to live by the unwritten code of wearing black and was constantly trying to get Cordelia into bright patterns and tight clothing. Which, was fun for about twenty minutes or until nature called. Last time the boisterous witch had convinced Cordelia to wear a romper on one of their field trips. What they had all neglected to realize was that the forty or so odd buttons were easier to hook when not blind. Especially when someone was trying to use the facilities in a port-o-potty at the farmers market. That particular endeavor had almost ended poorly, had Cordelia not thought to use magic to undo the incessant puzzle. 

 

She swiped for a shirt and a pair of nice leggins. It was obvious that they would be the most comfortable, but Cordelia knew that they also looked pretty good on her. She only wore black leggings, so whatever shirt she’d picked would match. Perhaps, if she was feeling particularly dangerous, she’d put on her heavy boots. It had been a long while since she’d used them; the thick rubber soles were heavy after a while and weren’t suited for a newly blind person trying to keep balance. 

 

She made her way to the bathroom and got herself settled. She set her cane against the door and began the task of trying to figure out where all of her products were. The girls tried, they really did. But, they didn’t understand how large the effect can be when someone grabbed toothpaste instead of her special conditioner because the bottles feel the same. There was a very obvious solution to this, but it was a sore spot for her. 

 

She could learn Braille. 

 

Braille was something mentioned early on. Cordelia did consider herself privileged when it came to communication. She had been with sight long enough to form the skills for reading and writing. She rebuked anyone’s offer at tutoring or getting braille-friendly items. To accept it and try and learn was to accept her destiny as someone who would never see again. There was a small part of her mind that hoped to one day wake up and see the familiar ugly eggshell white of her ceiling. However, each morning and night were filled with the same darkness. 

 

She still tried to look at things, though. She suspected that that reaction would likely fade soon. When people talked to her, she always maintained what she thought was eye contact, although her conversational partners were probably trying to avoid looking at her horrific face. When loud noises startled her, she still looked to investigate. 

 

Cordelia turned on the shower and almost moaned out loud at how good the hot water felt on her aching body. As she washed she let her mind wander slightly. She thought of showers with a lover and how different it would be. She’d only had two boyfriends in her life, one had ghosted her after two weeks, and one had blinded her. So, it was safe to say that she didn’t really have the best luck. 

 

It would take a lot out of her to even bare her body to someone else. Even the few times she made love with Hank, the lights were off or she wore clothing. He never seemed to mind until it became apparent that she wasn’t doing it to be coy - that her insecurity wasn’t a ploy to pad his fragile male ego. It was something that needed a certain trust of other that she didn’t think she was capable of anymore. She just wasn’t educated on how love or be loved. It, unfortunately, was that simple. Sexual touches seemed foreign to her. The idea of any man putting his hands on her made her face contort into a scowl and her muscles tense in a terrible way. 

 

It was too late for her, she was broken - too unwell to let anyone in. She’d missed her critical period on how to accept physical affection. Her body, while not something to be particularly proud of, was something that she still held dear. She wouldn’t let just anyone in, even if her choice in partners was terrible. It wasn’t that she hated it. In fact, she had lots of feelings about her body, but none of them had names. An ambivalence of sorts. 

 

She wasn’t what was considered to be conventionally attractive - she had a hunch in her gate from years of trying to make herself small. Her hair was rod-straight and could not hold any product whatsoever. In fact, she’d nearly burnt the Academy down in her teens trying to enchant a curling iron. Frequently her pale skin turned various shades of red when embarrassed - which was often. When she was particularly nervous or rushed, she skipped words when talking and sometimes let loose a lisp she had worked to eradicate as a child.

 

Most girls had mothers that built them up to be confident. Cordelia, however, was taught from an early age that she was no beauty. No, that was Fiona. The great beauty of her time and of the Goode family. The supreme had made mention of it nearly every time they interacted. Sometimes, Cordelia wished that a new supreme would arrive and Fiona could finally fucking die.

 

She continued to wash herself, the fantasy of a love life scorned once more. She wasn’t even here and still her mother continued to ruin everything in her life. The water in the shower left little angry marks, the rough loofah scraped against her burned skin. Shampoo dribbled into her eyes, and it took everything Cordelia had not to break down. How could her eyes be so useless but still be affected by suds? 

 

After a few more minutes the water started to cool down, and Cordelia began to shiver. She stepped into foggy bathroom and had to grasp onto the sick when she’d slipped on a puddle that hat gathered on the tile floor. Where had the bath mat gone? Had it been there when she had gotten in? Clumsy, that what she was. That’s what would eventually lead to her demise.  _ Clumsy fool.  _

 

She went through the rest of her routine (she’d learned to smell the toothpaste before using it) and while she was blow drying her hair, heard a quiet knock on the door. She quieted the dryer and cracked the door open. Even though she wore a towel, she still hid the majority of her body behind the door. 

 

“Sorry to bother you Miss Cordelia, but my clothes are done. Kyle and I are gonna go out to the greenhouse to fix the window. So, don’t get upset when you can’t find us.” Misty said, blowing a fresh minty scent into Cordelia’s face.  

 

Speechless for some odd reason, Cordelia nodded and smiled. Why words kept failing her when talking to the new witch was beyond her. She shut the door when she heard Misty’s steps turn and go back to the stairs. She stared at herself in the mirror out of habit. Sometimes, she flicked the light off and on to see if she could detect a light change. But, she never saw one. 

 

Her hands waded through the various mascara wands in the drawer as she tried to find a hair tie. She missed makeup. Previously, it had been a form of defense to her. If she used a full coverage foundation - no one could see her blush in embarrassment every time she spoke. With the right concealer it was impossible to see that she had been too anxious to sleep for three days. But, those times had changed. She no longer blushed because she never spoke. And well, they make pills for anxiety and sleeping. 

 

Maybe she’d ask Madison to do her makeup soon. 

  
  



End file.
